“But look here!” said his friend, coming after him. “I must tell you something. I’m going to be married to your youngest sister, and I want you to come and be best man. The girls are breaking their hearts about you.” “Oh, I dare say,” said the merman with a sneer. He had always been a most affectionate brother, but now he had no room in his heart for anything but his wooden image. “And there’s a dear little girl next door that will be glad to see you. She’s to be bridesmaid, of course. It’s my belief she likes you. The sweetest mermaid in the sea, she is, except your sister.” “She’s well enough for a mermaid,” said the merman, impatiently, for the ship was going farther and farther away. “I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said his friend, growing vexed at last. “I shall really think that absurd story of Moby Dick’s was true when he said you were in love with a wooden statue of a human being.” “She’s not human,” snapped the merman, coloring scarlet; “she’s a nymph, an immortal.” “Let’s have a look at her,” he said. “You are not worthy to behold her perfections,” said the merman. “Why, a catfish may look at a congressman,” said his friend, quoting a sea proverb. “Is she on board that ship off there? Come on;” and away he went and our merman after him. They came up with the ship, and there, as usual, stood the wooden image staring over the water. “She’s watching for me,” said the merman. The friend said nothing. He swam round and round, and looked up at the figure-head through his eye-glass. “Isn’t she a goddess?” asked our merman, impatiently. “Goddess!” said the other. “My dear fellow, it’s only wood as sure as you are alive.” “No merman shall insult me,” said our merman, in a passion. “Who wants to? Do open your eyes, my dear boy, and see for yourself.” “I do; I see how she looks at me and holds out her silver vase.” “She’ll do as much for me,” said his friend, swimming before the ship. Our merman was wild with rage and jealousy, for he could not help seeing that she did. He drew his sword (for he wore one), made of a sword-fish blade, and flew at his friend. “Defend yourself,” he said. “Nonsense,” said the other. “A likely story, I am going to fight you about a wooden stick. As for looking at me, she’d do the same for any old turtle.” The merman couldn’t but feel that this was true. But he only grew more angry. He struck his friend with all his might. There was a dark stain on the sea. “I’m not going to fight you,” said the other, turning very pale, “for you are _her_ brother, but I think you’ll be very sorry for this some time;” and he turned round and swam away as well as he could. Fortunately, after a little he met Moby Dick. “Hallo!” said the whale in a tone of concern. “What’s the matter?” “Nothing much,” said the other, for he wouldn’t tell the story. The whale suspected the truth. He sniffed and wiped his eyes with his flipper, for he was a soft-hearted monster.